The One
by Scribe456
Summary: Emma Swan is the personal assistant to bestselling novelist Regina Mills. Emma wants more, but can Regina see beyond their work and into Emma's heart?
1. Chapter 1

Emma knew the moment she took the card of the young man with electric blue eyes and the sleeve of colorful tattoos that fate hadn't brought him to her side of the room. She had smiled at him, and now Emma begrudged the boy – that's what he was, after all - the effort it cost her.

"Hey! Yeah! Good to see you," the young man garbed in a vintage Nirvana t-shirt and black skinny jeans and Vans shouted above the chainsaw-like music of the club. He looked around Emma, scanning the room like prey searching for the predator's hidden location.

Emma knew he was looking for Regina Mills. Regina Mills, the prolific avant-garde novelist well known in all arts circles for her penchant for multimedia projects and literary openings. When Regina Mills did well, the people around her did well. And everybody wanted to be on the Regina Mills bandwagon, given she was the queen of every bestseller list.

There was her name. Pre-printed. The address perfectly printed in its laser-inked reflective baby blue. It was some announcement of a film project by a group of graduate student at the nearby university, wanting _her_ to be an interview subject. Emma had made the mistake yet again of thinking she could separate her life into compartments marked "with her" or "without her", and she had that heart-sinking feeling as she left the makeshift bar and out into the lonely street.

It was well after most bars closed. Emma couldn't even bring forth the impetus to chastise herself for walking the sidewalk at 4 a.m. She knew it was stupid, yet still walked toward her makeshift temporary home. Something was missing. "Something important has somehow slipped away," Emma thought, "something that I'd never had and only now began to realize was missing."

She had thought that seeing a band by herself in this dingy hole of a venue would be a good way to get away from the overwhelmingness of _her_. Not just her, but the fact that Emma's employer and her notoriety had seeped their way into every dark corner of Emma's life. Not just into her heart, where all was torment and conflict, but where it was quiet and soft and where Emma could keep the sacredness a secret to herself. To hold onto it in the dark night when she knew she would never act upon it.

But no. Emma was still approached by strangers in odd places asking an audience. With _Regina_.

Emma's dating life had screeched to a halt after she had begun working for Regina. And after she moved onto her massive estate after Emma's apartment had caught fire, well. That was just the death knell for what had once been a struggling social life on the most meager of life support. If Emma was perfectly honest with herself, she had begun to slowly starve that part of herself the moment Regina had stared at her with those dark, wet eyes and said she was _the one._

The one to get her coffee and arrange her flights. The one to organize her appointments and signings. Emma was her personal assistant. "And it would do me well to remember that. All she needs from me are my office skills," Emma whispered to herself.

_I suppose that's not entirely true, _she thought._ There were other things she needs from me. To Regina, I am a sort of adopted family member. She has little family left, and those who were have the habit of only coming around when they need something._

Emma never asked those things of Regina, made sure never to reveal what she did need. What that need did to her. Emma was sure the effort was beginning to take its toll on both her and the working relationship. She didn't know how much longer she could keep it under wraps.

No, she would never say anything to Regina. But she would start putting out feelers for a new position tomorrow. It was time to move on. Emma couldn't do this anymore, it wasn't healthy. Her obsession was becoming too much to handle on her own, and she needed to rip the bandage off in one quick move.

But she couldn't deny the fact Regina was everything. She was perfect. Beautiful, smart, witty, well-read, a good friend. Rich beyond any possible material needs would require. Yes, Regina provided Emma a place to live. She was a friend, if nothing else. Emma knew, though, that something had to change or she was going to lose herself.

Emma listened to the sound of her heels clicking on the badly cracked sidewalk, echoing in the dark. One of them caught between two slabs of separated concrete and snapped with a sound that was like a gunshot in the heavy dark night. She couldn't help but chortle. _I thought that only happened in movies. How cliché I've become_, she said to herself. She rolled her eyes and slid her shoes off, tucking one in each pocket of her black trench coat.

A car engine purred on the street beside her. Emma knew who it was before Regina even pulled the Benz to a smooth stop. "Not a very good place to be walking this time of night, ma cherie," she said. "Get in."

So she did.

What else could she do?

"Not a good idea, ma cherie, to walk alone in the dark. The city has dangers even you cannot imagine," she purred, much like her car. Emma loved the sound of Regina's voice, it was a velvet tone licking up her spine.

"You're right, of course," Emma said, her voice just above a whisper. The night had gotten her down far more than it should have. She felt the burden of her obsession on her shoulders and that betraying tingle between her legs, even as Emma inhaled the scent of Regina's light, expensive perfume and the leather of the car's interior. She wanted it to saturate her senses, to become a part of her sinuses, her lungs, her soul so it would never leave her.

Rational thought intruded, _this is exactly why you have to get away from her_.

She looked over at Regina's profile, alternating between silhouette and flashes of the real woman under the passing streetlights. Emma knew it was more than obsession. She had to admit that to herself. It was far more.

Emma was in love with Regina. What was it they said? That it was like falling asleep? Slowly at first, then all at once. That was exactly how it had happened. Tricky, tricky love.

More than that, Emma knew Regina didn't have similar feelings. She felt obligation, a responsibility to someone who worked for her. She was a good woman. It was the main reason she loved Regina. Despite all, she was a good person. But Emma knew their differences were too high a wall to overcome.

Emma was younger. She was a nobody, and she liked that. She was only a somebody because of her attachment to Regina. As soon as she was no longer a part of her sphere, Emma would go back to the miasma from which nobodies like her sometimes bubbled up from for mere moments. Regina would always have fame and wealth and cars and men.

_Good God, the men. _Emma had never known Regina to have even had one girlfriend in all the time she had known her. Men, yes. Handsome little Ambercrombie &amp; Fitch fuck boys who were too old to model, but not too old to decorate a successful woman's arm and to fetch her drinks.

When they finally reached Regina's home, she took Emma's hand and walked her to the door of the guesthouse. She had insisted Emma use it after the catastrophe of her apartment fire. _Damn, she's nice_, Emma thought. She turned to thank Regina for saving her from herself, yet again.

As she stood on the sidewalk outside the blackened ruins of her apartment, Regina had driven up in her black Benz, got out, looked her over, and simply opened the passenger side door. Emma got in and after a few nights in one of the spare bedrooms in the main house, realized she couldn't be that close to her much longer.

"What about the guesthouse?" Emma asked one day while she was going over line edits on one of Regina's many writing projects.

"What about it?" Regina looked up from the ream of paper in her hand and reached for the coffee Emma had prepared for her. Black, double sweet, extra strong.

"Why I can't I move out there?" Emma asked. "It would give you some space. It's not really good for people who work together to live together, too, y'know."

Regina swiveled around in her desk chair, her hair swinging behind her in a dark aura, and looked at me with those golden chocolate eyes of hers. Emma would have been more coherent if she were still talking to the back of Regina's head instead of those eyes, now blackish in the subdued light of the office. They were her downfall, she only hoped Regina would see it her way and grant some merciful absence from her presence.

"If that's what you want," she murmured. Taking a sip of coffee, she turned back to his work. Emma couldn't tell because she was turned away, but it sounded as though Regina was disappointed.

It's not what Emma had wanted at all. Later that day, though, she packed her essentials. By week's end, the guesthouse had been ready for occupancy. Emma packed the rest of her things and was moved away from Regina within a few days. She still saw her every day, but the distance at night was a needed one. She don't know why, it's not as if Emma would ever have acted on her impulses. She would never walk down the hall, strip off, and then crawl into bed with Regina.

Not that Emma had thought about it every minute of every night and every day, or anything.

But Emma knew that she was only a mere step away from inappropriateness, and Regina's very being was based on being appropriate. She was "appropriate," and would never do anything to make anyone, Emma included, think otherwise. Meanwhile, Emma was daydreaming of pulling her hot boss away from that desk and doing things that would make her pull my hair in ecstasy.

Inappropriate things.

Regina was too close, her face about an inch from Emma's. She felt Regina's warm breath on her cheek, the scent of her skin drowning Emma in apples and cinnamon and … a touch of lavender? Emma smiled contentedly into her flashing dark eyes.

"Good night …"

And that's when it happened. Her boss, her friend, her obsession - Regina Mills - kissed her.

And it was _hot_.


	2. Chapter 2

Regina was too close, her face about an inch from Emma's. She felt Regina's warm breath on her cheek, the scent of her skin drowning Emma in apples and cinnamon and … a touch of lavender? I smiled contentedly into her flashing dark eyes.

"Good night …"

And that's when it happened. Her boss, her friend, her obsession - Regina Mills - kissed her.

And it was _hot_.

Regina was too close, her face about an inch from Emma's. She felt Regina's warm breath on her cheek, the scent of her skin drowning Emma in apples and cinnamon and … a touch of lavender? I smiled contentedly into her flashing dark eyes.

"Good night …"

And that's when it happened. Her boss, her friend, her obsession - Regina Mills - kissed her.

And it was _hot_.

In that moment, she opened. It was just like those lame depictions in old movies and in romance novels. Apparently, they're lame because they're true. Emma unfurled like a fucking flower under Regina's skilled lips and tongue.

Emma dropped her purse and heard the shoes clatter out of her coat pockets as she reached for Regina's waist. Regina was leaning into the kiss, but when Emma slid her fingers into the soft hair at her employer's neck and pulled gently, she came closer. Emma's heart pounded. Regina had offered, and she was taking. She felt the tears prickle at the back of her eyelids.

Emma had never been so ecstatic. So … _yes_ … grateful.

"Oh yes," Regina groaned against Emma's pink lips. Her warm hands snaked under Emma's red raincoat. As busy as their mouths were, Regina's hands began to move on Emma in patterns that threatened her sanity. She told her conscience to shut the fuck up and explored Regina's warm mouth as if the very secrets of existence were laid bare there. Emma's eyes tightly closed, she didn't want to wake from this dream if that was what it truly was. God knows, she'd had enough dreams featuring Regina Mills that left her wanting and hot and alone in the dark.

Emma moaned into Regina's devilish tease of a mouth and sucked her plump bottom lip, nipping with her teeth. She grew brave and opened her eyes, watching Regina's surprise at her play. In that instant her dark eyes were quicksilver, and Emma saw them shutter even as her right hand was on her left breast. Regina's thumb was on her nipple, and it felt as though her flesh was on fire.

It was on fire. For her. For Regina's touch, the only one that would relieve Emma of the burden she carried. The love Emma felt for Regina was painful. She was on fire. She was bruised and beaten and loved the feeling as Regina trailed her flaming kisses down the blonde woman's neck. Emma imagined she wanted one more taste before dragging her inside to bed where a warm cocoon of requited love was about to be created.

"I'm sorry …" Regina whispered. Her hands were still on Emma's body, and she felt the husky hardness in her employer's grip loosen. Emma knew she wasn't sorry. Even as she pulled away from Emma there on the porch of the guesthouse, the motion sensor picked up the movement and a light clicked on. It was like being doused in cold water. Emma was shaking, still quivering like an abandoned, rain-soaked pup - just from the power of Regina's kisses.

Her apology didn't make Emma feel any less of a fool. A confused fool, but a stupid fool nonetheless. _A warm cocoon_, Emma thought. _Yeah. As if that was ever going to happen_, she thought, backing away and closing in on herself to protect her sensitive, soft parts.

Regina, her eyes confused searched Emma's pale features, but the blonde's darkening eyes slid from her and looked out into the darkness. It had suddenly gone even colder. "It's alright," she mumbled, pushing back a mass of wild blonde curls as she reached down for her purse. The encounter had gone from mindblowing to crap in the space of a few moments. Emma knew what would happen. Regina would pretend it never occurred, while she never could forget. The kiss would eat at her every minute of every day she spent with her employer, and Emma would never have any peace.

"I'll see you in the morn…er, in a few hours?" Regina attempted that reassuring smile that always seemed to do things to her. It didn't meet her eyes, which were still somewhat clouded with wanting, even as Regina brushed a finger against Emma's arm.

Work. Of course. How stupidly naïve to think she might speak of anything else.

"Yes. Work…" Emma said as she let herself into her brightly lit temporary home.

"Emma …" her eyes asked a question to which the blonde didn't have an answer. Emma knew Regina would want to go back to what she saw as a perfect working relationship, what they'd had before what Emma was already thinking of as The Kiss. Capital letters. If it had been hard for Emma before, it was now impossible. Her stomach dropped, and she felt the sharp pressure of disappointment somewhere behind her sternum.

Regina's response definitely put a hairline fracture in a heart where there hadn't been one in before. _And to think I had been so careful, guarded it so diligently by refusing to care for anyone,_ Emma thought. By thinking herself unlovable and unworthy of another person's love or regard, she protected herself from such overwhelming notions and emotions. The trick hadn't worked this time, though, and the reality was crashing down upon her that her so-called trick was truth. _I sound pathetic even to myself. I am pathetic._

Emma looked at Regina, hoping her stupid eyes would keep the tears imprisoned just a few moments longer. A few more minutes and Regina would be gone. It would be over, and Emma could pack and leave. It was what she did best.

"I'm tired," Emma said, her voice an octave deeper than usual. She gently pulled further away from Regina and her dark beauty - far enough that even a casual touch would be unlikely. Emma needed the cold, the opposite of the warmth her body offered but her heart and mind did not. She needed it as a way to bring her back to her reality. To remind her. And she _was_ tired, in so many ways. Tired of loving a woman who would never love her back, or allow herself to. Tired of wasting her life waiting. Tired of living a life she knew wasn't going to enrich her any further than what it already had.

She ducked into the small cottage and closed the door with a click, shutting Regina out for the last time. Emma couldn't bear to be in Regina's presence anymore; she had been laid so bare, splayed open for all to see with the power of just one kiss.

Emma had learned what she needed to in this situation. She was not loved in return. Regina had apologized for The Kiss, for making her think things that were impossible.

Now Emma Swan was thinking it was time to move on.

Regina stood on the lovely wraparound porch wondering what to do. It seemed she sat there forever in a wrought iron chair, even after Emma had closed the door with a soft _click_. Emma watched Regina from inside after she turned off the lights in the cottage. Just sat and watched Regina from the other side of the picture window as she seemed to contemplate her world. After a while, Emma saw her slowly rise from the chair and walk toward the main house. When Regina's figure faded into the dark outside the boundaries of the lighted walkway, Emma dared to move and flipped the lights back on.

The brightness of Regina's world would never admit someone like Emma Swan, homeless orphan and one-time jailbird. Regina's world hurt her eyes and promised things that would never happen. It was time to make the decision for Regina, who was too kind to pull the plug on their relationship … whatever it was at this point. But Emma knew that in the light of day, they would never discuss The Kiss. It was best this way.

Soon after Regina left for the main house, Emma packed everything – which was ashamedly little, mostly clothes and the odd books (mostly those by Regina) – and called a taxi to meet her at the driveway gate.

Emma Swan was long gone before the workday started.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma was gone.

Regina knew it was a fact, but she still couldn't believe it. Everything in the house was as it should be. Showroom ready, clean, and wanting an occupant. It was …

It was empty, she thought. Regina felt helpless as she walked quickly through the small house, searching the rooms. Thrusting open the closet, she knew it would be empty. The same with the dresser and the nightstands.

With increasing pressure in her chest she continued to search for any sign of Emma. Any sign she would be returning to the little house. To her job. _To Regina_.

Emma had left _her_.

The only thing that had held any reminders of Emma was the desk in the small extra bedroom. It was covered in post-it notes and reminders in the blonde's looping scrawl. The laptop Regina had provided for her was still plugged into the surge protector. It had gone into sleep mode.

There on the screen was a note to her. Emma had known Regina so well, known just what her reaction would be and where she would look. Where any artist who creates with words would look – the computer.

_Regina –_

_I love you. I can't do this anymore. No big scenes. No uncomfortable goodbyes. Just ... I love you._

_E_

It may as well have been written on a fucking post-it note, Regina thought. Emma had left after _she_ had crossed the line. Hell, who was she kidding? They had both jumped over that fucking line, then kicked dirt over it. Several times. But Regina had been glad to do it. The follow-through was shit, but she was glad about what had happened between them. If she felt that way, why would Emma leave?

Regina ran through it in her mind, starting at the beginning of the evening. She had followed Emma. Regina didn't know why, exactly. Well, of course she did know why. Because she was concerned for her friend, who was going to be in a dodgy part of town, alone, well into the night. Knowing she had a penchant for walking because it gave her time to fall into her thoughts for awhile, Regina knew Emma would be endangering herself without meaning to.

It had only seemed natural to jump in her car and head toward the venue downtown where Emma had said her cousin Belle's band would be playing for one night only. Regina had parked and waited for Emma to emerge, watching from the dark as she walked toward the nearest bus stop. For awhile, she admired the sway of Emma's hips under the buzzing lights of the streetlamps. Then, as the blonde started to disappear from view, Regina put the car in gear and approached her for a ride.

Emma had accepted. Gratefully? It had seemed so, but she had been distracted. Emma was never distracted. If anything, the Emma that Regina knew was always of a single mind, always driven by a purpose. Tonight, she appeared torn, as if thinking was doing no good. She even avoided eye contact with her employer, her friend.

At the house, she took Emma by the hand and helped her from the car. Shit, in any other century and any other realm that would have been downright chivalric, Regina thought. But then The Kiss happened, and somehow it all had gone to hell. Emma had been magnificent. It had been the hottest, sweetest, most amazing kiss Regina had ever been a part of, and that was the truth. But then …

But then … _damn_. _But then she had apologized_, Regina remembered. She had apologized to Emma for The Kiss - which had taken on such importance that Regina capitalized it in her mind - even as her hands were still roaming Emma's warm, shapely, needy body. Emma's liquid green eyes had cleared, her arms pulled away from Regina and she had slipped away like running water through her fingers.

Suddenly, it had been over and Emma was gone. It wasn't what Regina had wanted. She didn't know why she had apologized, it had just come out. Maybe because she was sorry to complicate their relationship? She was sorry to make working for her awkward when it had been so natural before? Or perhaps Regina was sorry that, while she wanted to take her inside and fuck her brains out, she couldn't help but think it wasn't the right time?

Regina was sorry for a mixture of those things, she told herself. Regina sighed and read the note again. _I love you,_ it said. _I can't do this anymore._

_Do what? We had one kiss. The Kiss to end all kisses._ Regina knew she wanted more, but also that it was time to let her go. She was a moody writer who was difficult to live with at the best of times, and Emma was her sweet PA that put up with all her flamboyant and demanding shit.

It was obvious. They would never fit quite right together.

But who was she kidding? Regina knew what the "this" was in the note. The teasing, the almost loving, the almost relationship they had going. Regina had relationships before. Awful ones. She didn't want what happened in those to happen to what he had with Emma. She wanted Emma to always be there and to be there for her. She couldn't imagine her life without her - and not just her skills as a PA, but _her_. Her scent, the way she moved, the way she had of keeping Regina on task, the gentle brushes across her shoulders as she worked. It was as if Emma needed to touch Regina, to touch base. It was silently encouraging, especially when the writing was difficult. Regina loved her for it.

And Regina had said _I'm sorry_.

_What the hell?_ She was thinking about a future with Emma? Perhaps Emma had made the best decision, after all. Regina wasn't good at relationships, and that's why she didn't want one. Even now, with Emma. Sweet Emma.

Oh, but she'd like to have sex with her. Even now. Even after Emma left her in the lurch in so many ways by sneaking out in the literal dead of night, Regina would still have her in her bed underneath her. Over her. On their sides. Over the side of the couch. On her desk.

_Damn_, Regina thought. She needed to stop this. It was done, and Emma had made the best decision for herself. Regina had made the wrong one, though. It didn't mean it was painless for her, though. But there was one thing Emma didn't know.

Regina wasn't sorry for The Kiss at all. How could she be? It was the closest she had ever been to completion, to joining her soul to that of another. And now Emma was gone, had been for hours. If she left right after their encounter, that meant she had been gone for about eight hours.

To Regina, it may as well have been a hundred years.

_A year ago …_

_Regina Mills hated parties. She despised having to mingle and make small talk with those who, otherwise, she would have nothing in common with. No, there was no way she would have entered the flotsam if not for the requirement set by her publisher to attend such events. _

_But that didn't mean she had to watch a girl get mauled by the drunken stepson of the publishing house's CEO. The girl was in trouble, that much was evident._

_Truthfully, she had been watching the young woman since arriving at the soiree. The girl had to be someone's assistant or an intern or something, she seemed too – pure, for lack of a better word – to be an agent or editor. Maybe she was a line editor, but whatever. It made no difference. There was no reason for the abuse she was being forced to endure, Regina thought._

_Regina saw the smarmy man's hands swerve against the younger woman's slim frame, one delving into the mass of golden blonde hair and the other squeezing her ass. That was it, she thought to himself. Slamming her glass of whiskey onto the nearest table with a _thwak_, Regina made her way across the room to the French doors. There, the woman was attempting to fend off the increasingly adamant moves of the scumbag while maintaining the decorum such an important industry event demanded. _

The girl must really need this job_, Regina thought. Grabbing the guy's lapel, Regina spun him around and knuckle-punched him in the throat. She couldn't help but grin as the guy choked and spat, grabbing at his neck with both hands – which, Regina was satisfied, were now off the young woman._

_The young woman stood there, shocked. But still, she was glad someone had stepped in when she had frozen. Killian Jones had deserved more than a punch to the throat, she was only saddened it hadn't been at her hand. No matter, what's done is done. And one thing that was inescapably done was her job with Jones Paper Co. _Well, here is my pink slip. Might as well grab a few snacks and split,_ Emma thought to herself. _You don't cause the son of the CEP to be punched in the throat and keep your unpaid internship._ A passing waiter had been stunned into stillness, tray full of snacks and champagne. Emma snagged the tray and lifted a glass to Regina._

_"Well, thank you, Ms. Whoever You Are," she said, tossing back the wine as she walked toward the foyer with a false confidence only Regina saw through._

Emma had underestimated the possibilities laid out before her upon leaving Regina Mills's employ. After leaving Regina's compound, Emma went to her cousin's apartment where she was ordered to set up camp in a spare bedroom, throw on some comfy clothes and settle down for an ice cream feast.

It was just what she needed.

She hadn't seen Belle in more than a month, as Regina's schedule had them traveling most of that time. Emma spilled everything out as she dug for brownie pieces in the Ben &amp; Jerry's pint that had tried to put up a good fight. Though Emma had known she would never see Regina again, she kept glancing at her mobile phone. If it had been a tiff between lovers, surely they would have been busy repairing the relationship.

"You keep looking at that phone like it's supposed to ring," Belle said quietly, her accent lilting across the sofa. She was curled up on the couch, spooning some Chunky Monkey into her mouth. An episode of "Orange is the New Black" played in the background.

Emma shrugged. "It's just a bad habit."

"Well, it's one you're going to have to break, Emma, if this is what you really want."

Emma nodded, adding a "hmmm" to make her compliance seem more convincing. She knew Belle was right. And, after all, she had left with the intention of making her absence from Regina's life permanent. And no matter how many times she looked at that damn phone, it still told the same story.

Regina was apparently unaffected by her absence. She was probably interviewing for a new personal assistant right at that very moment. _Bitch_.

Well, that might be a bit harsh. Emma was sure she was affected insomuch as she had to write her own emails, schedule her own meetings and such. But any office temp could do those things, she would just have to call and hire someone.

_But it's not harsh_, Emma told herself. It was nothing like that. In fact, it was the opposite of that, and Regina was likely glad to see the back of her. It was a relief that Emma had finally made the decision to end it … whatever it was … between them. Someone had ripped the bandage off, and now it would scab over and heal. Good as new.

Well, almost. That's how these things worked, right? Live to love another day? Emma knew she would have a scar from the experience. She only hoped it would be smaller than the original wound.

Mostly, Emma was tired. The carb coma from the ice cream was beginning to hit, and she crawled into bed late in the afternoon. Sleep was a good respite from choking back the tears of sorrow and regret. Emma had finally killed whatever relationship she had with Regina. She could move on.

Perhaps it should have a funeral, Emma thought to herself as consciousness ebbed away.


	4. Chapter 4

4

The words wouldn't come.

No matter how long she stared at the screen and tried to force them, tried to keep to her publisher-approved story outline, Regina couldn't make the words appear. The flashing cursor at times mocked, at times comforted. But, it remained.

It felt like her mind was blank. As if when Emma left, she had taken every wisp of inspiration with her that had allowed Regina to work, to write, to create. What was it Lord Byron said? "If I do not write to empty my mind, I will go mad?" Regina had always thought it was a crock of shit from someone who had fucked his way across Europe and likely smelled of venereal disease and patchouli.

Turns out, though, it was true. She had never known it before because words usually came easily. Before Emma, it was fine. While Emma was in her life, puttering around her house and handling her business affairs – and some personal affairs, admittedly, Regina's work never suffered. In fact, it flourished.

But no longer.

Regina felt the chair underneath her, the slickness of the laptop keys under her fingertips. She heard the slow ticking of what must be the slowest fucking clock in the world, but none of it helped. And, she knew, none of it would help.

Because Emma was gone. Emma was gone and had sucked all the fresh air out of her lungs, had taken the light from the home they had shared for awhile, even if it was strictly business.

Regina scowled. Strictly business. If she hadn't been so stuck on business, maybe Emma would be with her right now. Maybe she would be swishing around the room, offering much needed distractions from work that was on like gangbusters. Just laying her eyes upon Emma helped Regina center herself and form the words needed to make stories people seemed to love.

Deeper in the house, a door slammed so hard it turned askew some of the papers on Regina's desk. It didn't take long for the trespasser to make her way to Regina's study.

"Regina!"

"Mother," she said, rising slowly from her desk chair. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

It had been weeks since Cora Mills had visited her daughter. Usually, they met outside the house for a meal or a drink, something that allowed each of them to leave whenever they wanted. While cordial, their relationship had been strained for many years due to Cora's interceding in Regina's professional and personal affairs.

"Dear, where is my lovely Emma Swan? Did you finally give her a day off, you termagant? You really are too hard on the girl, your expectations are far too high."

"You have no idea," Regina muttered, turning to straighten the skewed stack of papers back into a semblance of order.

"What?"

"She's not here, Mother."

"But why? She told me she loved working with you! That's something you don't hear often. That someone _loves_ working with the reclusive hardass Regina Mills."

"Yes, well. Emma Swan terminated her employment," Regina said tightly. Her chest felt white hot as she said it aloud, spinning angrily toward her mother. "She no longer works for me."

"Oh," said Cora. She just looked at her daughter. Cora's deep, dark eyes may have been windows to her soul, but they were also like X-rays going right to the depths of what her daughter wasn't saying. "_Oh!_"

Regina's eyes narrowed and she brushed past her mother, intent on putting her hands to work doing something in the kitchen. Anything.

"Tea?" She found herself making the offer before being consciously aware of her intent.

"Of course. The lemon ginger, please," Cora said. Regina nodded. She knew which tea to brew for her mother. It was the same tea she had drunk since childhood. She claimed it was good for the lungs and chest. Regina wondered if it would cure that burning in her chest that started when Emma left.

"So why did she leave, dear? Were you not getting along?" Cora asked as she removed her light jacket and made herself comfortable at the eat-in table. Her keys clanged on the slick glass top as she lay them down.

"I suppose you would have to ask her, Mother. She didn't bother to let me know."

Cora let that sink in and the air settled around it. It didn't ring true somehow. The Emma Swan she had met would have at least left a resignation letter.

"I see. Nothing but trouble, that one. I'm glad she's gone," Cora said.

Tending the electric kettle, Regina startled. She wasn't glad Emma was gone, not by a long shot. Everyone seemed to love Emma. She had thought her mother had adored the girl. Regina felt the heat in her heart become partners with a sudden heat in her brain at the thought of someone trash talking Emma. After all, she was the woman she lo ...

_What?_

Regina missed the #1 Mom mug that Emma had bought and reserved for Cora's visits and poured boiling water on the pad of her thumb.

"Goddammit!" Mentally, she began counting to five as she dragged her hand over to the tap where she could run cold water over it.

Cora rose and assembled her tea, dropping a spoonful of honey from a tacky bear-shaped bottle into the liquid, before returning to the table to sit smugly and blow on her drink. Gripping the cup with both hands, she brought it to her lips and drank as she gave Regina time to think over the impact of what was said and not said.

Regina held her hand under the cold tap until the burn eased and her fingers got stiff. "I kissed her," she whispered.

"What?" Cora asked, having heard damn well what her daughter had confessed.

Regina whipped away from the sink and flicked the faucet off. "I. Kissed. Her. That's why she left, Mother."

Cora smiled.

"Oh, darling. I'm sure that's not why she left."

Crossing the kitchen, Regina sat heavily in the chair across from her mother. "No, you're right. She left because I apologized for it."

Oh, dear. That did surprise Cora. Regina's mother cleared her throat and set her cup on the table.

"Why did you do that?"

"Well, I'm her employer, for one thing. It's not ethical for me to be mauling my employees, now is it?" Regina snarked as she wiped her hand dry. Some angry pink remained, but she figured it would be OK.

"Generally, no. It wouldn't be ethical. However, given how our dear Emma left in the middle of the night and ran to her friends' bosoms, it doesn't sound as if she took offense to the kissing."

"Mother, how do you know where …"

"And furthermore, you didn't tell me about the note she left, which leads me to believe that kiss meant far more to you than you are willing to admit, Regina."

"Seriously, how do you know all this …?"

"I'm on her friends' band's Facebook site. I love their blend of punk feminist folk rock," Cora said, shrugging a shoulder as if to say no big deal.

Regina just looked at her mother, an eyebrow raised. "There are things I do not know about you, old woman. So many things."

"Well, dear, this is true. However, if there is one thing I know about you, it is that you are shit with dealing with emotions. You can write about them all day every day in your book manuscripts, but as far as real life? No. You're a terrified little girl."

This gave Regina pause. She knew her mother was right. God, she hated when her mother was right.

"You're right."

"Well, mark the calendar!" Cora crowed and swallowed down the last bit of her tea and setting down the cup with a click. "The ball is in your court, as they say, dear one. What do you want to do?"

"I need her back. I need my inspiration to return to me. I can't do anything without Emma, mother. She's the one who made everything make sense. Without her, it's all wrong – I'm all wrong," Regina said, her gaze focused on the floor under the glass table top. It was as if the words trapped in her mind had flowed only when she was thinking about Emma or in Emma's presence.

Her life just didn't work without Emma Swan. Accepting that made Regina feel better, but there was still the problem of convincing the woman she loved to come back. Not as an employee or friend, but as her best friend, companion, and - hopefully one day - her lover and partner.

Cora nodded to herself, happy with what she knew was going through Regina's mind. "OK, so Operation Homing Pigeon is born."

"Homing pigeon? That's a ridiculous name for an operation," Regina couldn't help but smile.

"Well, we're going to bring your Swan home to roost, dear. And just so you don't have to ask, yes, I'm going to help your pitiful self," Cora said, opening the Facebook app on her phone.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm scrolling through the Facebook page for The Screaming Harpies, that's the name of her friends' band. I saw something yesterday about them hiring a new manager, and that's what Emma's doing now. Managing a band. Can you imagine that? Our little Emma traveling with a punk feminist rock band? Looks like they do a lot of festivals," she said, still scrolling. "They'll be a little town in Maine called Storybrooke for the band's anniversary, playing someplace called Granny's. How quaint."

"When?" Regina asked, pulling up her favorite airline's website, ready to book a flight to the closest airport.

"In two days' time."

Logging in on her iPhone, it only took Regina a few determined taps to book a business class seat for the next day. It felt as if she had air in her lungs again. The words would come again.

She was going to bring Emma home.


End file.
